


Dr. Flug and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by wckdlytwstd



Series: Gimme Some of That Paperhat [1]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Lots of Cursing, Minor gore mention, Paperhat - Freeform, Pre-Established Relationship, but i had to torture the boy a bit (lot) first, dont worry, flug is having a terrible day, guard thine young eyes and look away if need be, it ends with some fluff, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wckdlytwstd/pseuds/wckdlytwstd
Summary: This day was cursed. That was obvious.From the time he had woken up to the present moment not a single god forsaken thing had actually gone well for him and he was this close to just lying down on the floor and giving up completely. But even that would be bad for Flug in the long run.





	Dr. Flug and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Dear LoRRDD JESUS THISTOOKSOMUCHLONGERTHANITHOUGHTITWOULDOMG!! But I am actually pretty happy with it. Please enjoy what was supposed to be a drabble for Day 6: Unlucky of Paperhat-week-month but turned into a full blown oneshot.

This day was cursed. That was fucking obvious.

From the time he had woken up to the present moment not a single god forsaken thing had actually gone well for him and he was _this_ close to just lying down on the floor and giving up completely. But even that would be bad for Flug in the long run.

One didn’t simply lay down in the middle of a fortified death trap of a lair that belonged to one of their less than reputable clients. That would be suicide and unfortunately for our dear doctor was not an option if he didn’t want a certain eldritch demon to summon his ghost back to this plane of existence to ream him a new one from now till judgement day for the crime of not reporting back to work. He was unlucky enough to not even have the curtesy of a peaceful afterlife.

Sore from the royal smack down he had received from the idiot in tights he had had the displeasure of crossing paths with earlier, his progress was slow down the narrow corridor. Even with his cracked goggles, also a gift from the hero called Airsteam who he had narrowly gotten away from, the doctor could still see, _mostly_ , in the dim corridor. Though it would not surprise him if something nasty got past him in the shadows and delivered the final ‘Screw You’ to his miserable day. 

A ray gun, the one he had slaved over the entirety of last night in order to be able to present it to the client at the meeting today, was held before him. Even with the botched presentation earlier, where they gun had malfunctioned gloriously, Flug felt better having some kind of weapon to at least threaten combatants with, even if it wouldn’t actually work.

But who knows? Maybe his bad karma had built up enough through the day that the universe would give him a freebie and the ray would work. In theory it was supposed to create a pocket of warped space where one could send things for storage. Kind of like a vault that existed outside of this plane of reality. Perfect for storing that pesky hero in your life till you could dispose of him with the proper amount of flair villains tended towards these days.

However, during the demonstration earlier it had only succeeded in exploding spectacularly when the beam came in contact with its intended targets, a few minion volunteers supplied by the client. The mess had been impressive, the carnage splattering all over the walls. And the villainess. She reacted unfavorably, as one tends to do when splattered with bits and pieces of your loyal employees. Flug had barely managed to quit the room before the woman had unleashed the unholy fury of her security system. Thankfully it was a Blackhat Inc. model. Flug was quite familiar with the technology for obvious reasons.

That was until he discovered that the enterprising villainess and made her own modifications to the intruder protocols. Mainly the inclusion of heavy duty robotic sentries in place of the small laser bots in his original design. These armored equivalents of robotic Rottweilers with a nasty streak a mile wide had chased him deep into the bowels of the compound and prevented him from finding an exit for well over two hours. So he was left to wonder cautiously through the lower levels of the compound desperately searching for a route to freedom.

Blackhat was going to kill him. Not only for the meeting going so terribly wrong but for his absolute incompetence when it came to escaping someone he commonly referred to as a ‘ _disgrace to all things villainous, barely worthy of association with the company’_. The only reason she was kept on the client list was the exorbitant amount of money Blackhat raked in from said disgrace. The fact that Flug had been trapped here for going on almost three hours was just sad.

Rounding another corner the doctor let out a string of curses as all he found was more dimly lit, stark corridor with doors at regular intervals, all of which that he had tried up till now had been locked. A long suffering sigh rattled its way out of his chest as he contemplated doubling back to try another direction or continuing on down the hall.

The decision for better or worse was made for him as his ears picked up the ominous rattle of metal and whirring engines. A sentry was approaching from up behind him. _Fast_. Thank goodness for small mercies that the robotic monstrosities were not stealthy. You could at least take the small assurance of hearing your imminent death approaching. Goody.

The doctor took off full tilt down the hall, not even bothering with the doors, his only goal being to put at least one more corner turn between himself and the robot and out of its line of sight. He had no idea if they had audio receptors and would be drawn to the sound of his pounding feet or if he would be in the clear if he could just stay out of sight. He slammed into the wall at the end of the corridor having put in the necessary motions to make the turn too late at his rate of speed. It hurt like a bitch where a particularly nasty bruise on his forearm met with the metal wall. He hissed at the sting, cursing under his breath. Was it too much to ask for a little respite? Hadn’t he been tortured enough already?

Apparently it was entirely too much to ask because the corner he had just taken great pains to round led to a short, dead end hallway.

‘Motherfucking shit on a cracker. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Seriously??!!’ he screeched as he tried the few doors before the abrupt end of the passage. _Locked_. _Locked_. Not even a handle of this one for Christ sake. _Locked_.

On the very last door, the last glimmer of hope, he felt a surge of relief as the handle gave to the violent twist of his hand. The metal surged inward from his entire body slamming into its surface. Without taking time to celebrate the small victory he leapt inside and threw his weight back against the door slamming it closed. He had no way of knowing if the sentry had rounded the corner before he made it into the room. And there was still the possibility that it had the capacity for audio. Yes, there was always that.

Mentally, Flug was in a tale spin of conflicting emotions as he heaved lungfuls of air into his depraved chest cavity. On the one side, it seemed that the first lucky thing had finally come his way. The door had opened. On the other hand, as he looked more closely at the room he now occupied the glimmers of hope were snuffed out without mercy to be replaced with dread and finally resignation.

The room was, for lack of a better term, a glorified broom closet. A broom closet with no exit. Except for the one behind him that led to robotic sentries itching to tear him limb from limb. Not the best of options. Pressing an ear to metal surface Flug listened for the approaching guard with bated breath. There was the whirring. Slowly getting louder as it bounced off the walls of the corridor. It grew so loud that he was certain the bot was right outside the door. He was seconds away from being discovered, he just knew it.

There was a beep and then the door he was pressed against made a series of clicking sounds. The final one a dull _thunck_ as an inner mechanism slid into place.

No.

No no **NO**!!

Panic welled in his chest as the whirring sound of the robot retreated back down the hallway till all that remained was silence.

_Breathe_. A shaking hand lifted and the terrified doctor tried the handle of the door. It didn’t even turn. He pressed against it firmly. It didn’t budge.

Welp, there goes breathing. Hyperventilating was _waaaay_ more interesting anyway.

Flug chocked back a sob as his knees gave out and he sunk down the door till his ass hit the floor with a muffled fwump, the ray clattering off to the side as his grip loosened. It was useless. He was never getting out of this hellhole of a compound.  He was going to **die** locked in a broom closet from dehydration. They would find his corpse when the smell got too bad. That was to be the hilariously ironic end to one Dr. Flug Sly, mad scientist extraordinaire who had things blow up in his face on a regular basis.

The stress of the day finally caught up to him and large hot tears welled in his eyes and he sobbed into his knees the paper of his bag disintegrating under the onslaught of liquid. He ripped the thing from his head, dragging off the googles as well. Who cared anyway? No one was going to see him _ever_ **again.**

He cried for a good long time. Letting it all out in violent, chest rattling wails. The hero’s beating, his weapon’s malfunction, the fact that he had failed Blackhat again, all coalescing into a right and proper breakdown worthy of note in the doctor’s history of neurosis. 

Flug had no idea how long he was out of it, lost in the depths of despair and panic. Time passed. He had no more tears to give, his chest stinging from the hyperventilation, his mind numbing to everything and he settled into a weird limbo state of calm. He swiped at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his tattered coat, then replaced his googles. He left the bag, useless now with so many tears and holes lying on the ground as he stood up shakily.

He replaced the ray in his pocket and began an inspection of the closet, looking for anything that might aide him in his plight. Something to open the door, an escape route he might have missed on first look. Hell, he would even take a communication device to contact Blackhat to come get his sorry ass at this point. His phone had been sacrificed in his skirmish with the masked hero wonder. His boss was probably bursting at the seams since he had failed to check in since earlier that morning.

There were some shelves with dusty boxes on two sides of the room. At the rear, opposite the door there were crates marked with varying levels of hazard symbols and questionable bits and bobs of forgotten equipment. Things you would expect to find in the broom closet of an evil lair. He dug into the boxes, starting with the ones lowest on the shelf and working his way up. He shoved a crate with the lowest hazard warning over to stand on to reach the higher shelves when those he already went through turned out to hold useless things like latex gloves and on one occasion and entire box of rubber ducks.

For all his efforts he got zilch. Nada. Zipo. Methodically, he moved on to the crates, inventorying everything in his mind constantly running through ideas and discarding them as he found more and more useless, _worthless, unhelpful godfoRSAKEN TRASH_. ARgghhhhhhhhhhh!!! Flug chucked aside a beaker and it smashed into the wall with a satisfying sound of shattering glass. It didn’t help anything but it did make him feel a tiny bit better so there was that.

A particularly large crate that was marked with biohazard symbols all over its surface had been placed on a dolly for ease of transport. There was no way he was opening a biohazard in this contained room, not, at least, till he was quite _quite_ desperate. So he shoved it aside on the squeaky wheels to check for hidden items behind its mass.

Wait. Is that what he thought it was? The doctor crouched down and ran his hand over the panel in the floor, not daring to believe what his eyes were seeing.

It was a hatch. A metal hatch with a lift ring handle and hinges and everything and oh GODS he might actually be able to get out of here!

Wrapping both glove covered hands around the thick metal ring he gave it a twist and it turned with a satisfying click. Planting his feet on either side of the panel he hauled with all the might in his spindly body, adrenaline and the taste of hope aiding in lifting the heavy metal item from its bed in the floor. Once he reached a certain point he let gravity carry the hatch the rest of the way open to bang against the floor.

Sweet Mother of Jefferson Davis, there, right in front of him, was a ladder. It led down into an inky blackness that the dim light of the closet could not penetrate so Flug had no way of knowing how for down it actually went. Quickly he got up and retrieved another beaker from the box on the shelf and returned to the hole. Kneeling down he sucked in a breath making it as quiet as humanly possible, the only sound his own heartbeat thundering away in his ears. He lifted the beaker over the hole, carefully positioning it as close to the center as possible so it would fall straight and not hit the ladder or the sides of the passage.

He released the glass and leaned over to listen as it fell silently down into the darkness, counting to himself.

_One…. Two… Three …Four... Five…. Crash!_

Five seconds. So roughly 500 feet give or take. That wasn’t terrible. Perhaps it led to maintenance tunnels that weren’t protected by the security system. He certainly didn’t remember any tunnels that deep when he was designing the system for this particular compound. He could do this. It would be fine. The early panic attack had left him weaker than ever but he couldn’t just sit here and wait around till one of those sentries got the bright idea to start checking every room. Just a bit more effort and he would be out. _Hopefully_.

A few minutes later, he had compiled a small set of supplies from the boxes and crates. A rudimentary rope made from extension cords and a makeshift glow light from some chemicals he had discovered in one of the hazard containers. Using some cloth strips he tied the light around his hip so it dangled out of the way to descend the ladder and lit the way down. More cloth strips went to wrap around his face and hair. If he did, _by some miracle,_ manage to get out via the manhole he wouldn’t be caught dead shambling back to the manner with nothing concealing his identity, even if he did look like some weird amalgamation of a veiled belly dancer and snake charmer with goggle eyes.

Scrounging up whatever courage he had left, Flug shimmied down into the hole, grabbing the first wrung in hands that were slick with sweat inside his gloves. Making sure his makeshift rope was in the proper position and secured around his waist he started his descent into the inky blackness.

***

If Flug thought he was going to get away with sneaking into the manor without detection then his dear delusional scientist was in need of a serious wake up call. Blackhat had felt the sheer amount of _Done_ radiating from the man as soon as he had pushed open the front gates. By the time the doctor trudged up the front steps and opened the door with the care and precision of defusing a bomb so as not to make a noise, the eldritch was aware that the scientist was indeed trying to sneak past his boss and thus avoid the unholy comeuppance that was most definitely awaiting him.

Blackhat waited patiently, listening to the near silent footfalls across the parlor floor. They had an odd quality to them, something in addition to the usual _shnick_ of sneakers on polished mahogany floors. A squelching sound like stepping in wet rubber. The noise became more pronounced as the doctor ascended the stairs, taking care, Blackhat noticed to avoid the board third from the top, which was an infamous squeaker.

His employee loitered at the landing, clearly trying to screw up his courage enough to slink by his boss’s office so he could make it to his own quarters. There was a deep inhale of breath which the human held and began to tentatively move forward.

 

Black hat let him make it to just past the frame, just to the point where he would believe he had gotten away with it. Then his inky tentacles thrust open the doors latching onto the startled man. They dragged him back into the depths of the office, the door slamming closed again. It plunged the room into relative darkness the only light the single lamp on his desk. The scientist yelped as he was dragged bodily across the floor and laid out like a sacrifice on the demon’s grand desk.

The first thing Blackhat noticed was the ungodly stench that radiated of his doctor. The second being that he was soaked from the waist down. Finally that the human looked like absolute shit, covered in scrapes, bruises, and rips. His bag was missing to be replaced by ratty torn pieces of cloth tied hastily around his lower face and hair. His googles were cracked and there were very distinctive signs that the doctor had been crying, hard, very recently. It was obvious to anyone that Dr. Flug had had a very _very_ bad day.

‘My dear doctor, where have you been?’ He saw the scientist’s eyes widen and the fear that washed through his system. Blackhat only ever spoke to him like that, sweetly with a smooth tone that removed most of the gravel in his throat, on two occasions one much more frequently than the other. The first was when they shared a calm intimate moment with each other locked away from the rest of the world. The second and much more frequent use of those honey coated words was when Blackhat was vexed beyond the point of yelling.

Usually it was enough to send the scientist babbling apologies like his life depended on it to appease his boss’s anger. But on this occasion, after the initial plunge of fear, resignation settled across his tired features and Flug sighed deeply.

 

‘Nowhere, Jefecito. Sorry I'm so late.’ The doctor’s voice was flaccid, void of emotion having given up on it at some point in the day apparently.

 

‘Flug..’ the demon pulled the doctor up close to his face growling in warning. ‘Do you imagine that after coming home from my meeting, which was an absolutely nightmare by the way, to a message on the company machine from our idiotic  client. The client you were entrusted to deal with today. She was quite irate, vowing vengeance upon my head and my company for the egregious affront to her person by one Dr. Flug Slys. Then to wait for hours till my scientist finally deigns to drag his carcass across my doorstep. Do you think for one second that I am going to let you off that easy? Hmmm?’

The phone call had been annoying to say the least and the subsequent waiting had made his skin itch, never being good with being patient. He had gleaned from the call that the scientist had managed to escape the enraged villain’s clutches and thus did not deem it necessary to make the trip out.

 

‘N-no. No, I don’t think that sir.’ Flug replied still in that small defeated tone that was grating on Blackhat nerves. It was getting very difficult to stay mad when the doctor look so…pathetic. It was unsettling and as was his nature he reacted badly to things that unsettled a creature that was very used to _doing_ the unsettling.

‘Hells dammit Flug tell me what happened!’ He shouted, shaking the doctor for good measure. He was not going to coddle the doctor even if they had been closer than usual as of late. He was still an eldritch demon.

‘Fine! You wanna know what happened!? I’ll tell you what happened. I had the absolute worst fucking day on this god forsaken planet. I got the stuffing kicked out of me by that Captain Goody Mc Airstream Two Shoes cause he was prowling the neighborhood just for shits and giggles. He broke my phone, _totaled my scooter_ , cracked my **goddamn** goggles and Apparently damaged the device that I was taking to the client. Because after I **finally** managed to get away from him and make it to the meeting it decided to _explode_ its targets rather than detain them! All over the client mind you.’

The man sounded more hysterical, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the stress of the day seemed to well up in him. He tore off the cloth and his googles freeing his face to Blackhat’s perusal.

 ‘You would have loved it Jefe. Carnage everywhere, ruined her god awful designer dress. She screeched like an irate bat.’ He laughed manically at that but it trailed off on a broken sob as the doctor continued.

‘Then after that amazing debacle I was chased by a horde of killer robots, trapped in a fucking broom closet. Oh! Had the most _wonderful_ panic attack. Haven’t had one of those in a while. It was absolutely fucking _awesome_! Finally found a way out but ended up having to wade through waist deep sewage for 10 blocks before finding a fucking exit.’

‘Now I’ve made it home to add the final nail to my coffin because my eldritch horror of a boss is gonna fillet my stupid ass. THAT was my day, hattie boy, how was yours?’ he finished somehow having lost all sense of self-preservation by the end, tears freely flowing down his cheeks as he panted through the rush of his frustration at his horrible _rotten_ luck.

Blackhat blinked down at the scientist, trying to catch up with the rushed explanation and process the fact that Flug hat actually called him _hattie boy._ The man had obviously lost it, the world finally dishing out more than the scientist could handle, even with the practice he had from dealing with Blackhat on a daily basis.

Without a word Blackhat retracted the limbs that held the scientist in place setting him gently back on the desk. Even he, with his very limited range of human emotional understanding, could recognize that shouting and threats was going to get him nowhere right now with the strung out doctor. What was required was a leveling of the field and, he gagged a bit, more _patience_.

 

The doctor was shaking by this point, silent tears rolling down his face as he slowly began to register what it was he had said to his boss.

The demon reached for him and the doctor flinched back. It had been years since the eldritch had actually done physical harm to the doctor, he had stopped jumping at his touch long ago. But he obviously believe that he had fucked up enough this time to have crossed a line. Blackhat just sighed, rolling his eyes and continuing forward to grip the scientist by the shoulders and pull him up off the desk into his arms. Ignoring the shock on the human’s face, Blackhat adjusted him to an easy bridal carry and strode from the room into his personal quarters.

‘um..Jefeci-‘ The scientist began tentatively but Blackhat shushed him and made a beeline for the immaculate bathroom suite off from his bedroom. He deposited the man on the cushy black bath mat and with a wave of his hand the deep marble basin filled with steamy soapy water.

‘Bathe.’ He ordered simply and left the room. A snap retrieved the first aid kit from the lab and another wave of his hand had a fresh pair of boxers and pajamas retrieved from Flug's dresser. And then he waited, _patiently_ , for the doctor to finish.

***

When Flug emerged from the steaming washroom wrapped in a fluffy black towel, smelling much better and looking much calmer, Blackhat immediately order him to the bed. The demon proceeded to pay attention to every cut and bruise. The doctor for his part was blushing up to his ears but didn’t dare try to question the eldritch again, just accommodating the demon as he checked over every inch of skin. It wasn’t like Blackhat hadn’t seen his body before, but this was different somehow. More personal.

Flug felt the immense relief that washed through him when a pair of boxers and blue flannel airplane pjs were shoved at him and he dressed quickly, using the towel to dry is fluffy locks of hair. Now, standing awkwardly before the scrutinizing eye of the demon, Flug contemplated retreating from the room. Surely, Blackhat wouldn’t just let it go. He had really screwed up. He at least deserved a stern talking to even if he didn’t think he could mentally handle it right now.  

Blackhat pointed at the bed with a stern expression that brokered no arguments. Sighing, the doctor crawled beneath the sheets. Despite his confusion with the serious shift in his boss’s attitude he couldn’t deny the pleasure that course through him as he settled into the downy fluff that was Blackhat’s exorbitantly comfortable bed. He rolled his face into the pillow inhaling the scent that was unique to the demon.

When Blackhat proceeded to slide in beside him the doctor tensed back up again, waiting for the eldritch to make the first move. He wasn’t sure, despite the gentle treatment, on whether he was still in trouble or not and this might just be a lull in the storm of Blackhat’s anger.

A very undignified squeak escaped him as he was yanked back against a cool solid chest, arms wrapping securely around his person. He settled again and soon a gentle rumble started up behind him soothing over the silence in the room.

When he couldn’t take it anymore Flug screwed up what remained of his courage and asked what was on his mind. ‘Why are you being so…’ he didn’t dare say nice. Blackhat would kill him. ‘Considerate, sir.’

The purring ceased as Blackhat’s grip tightened slightly on the scientist before relaxing again. ‘Because, Flug. The universe has obviously dealt you an inordinate amount of bad luck today and now it owes you. I am simply making sure it pays the bill.’ He explained.

Flug smiled a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Leave it to Blackhat to look at Flug's terrible luck like a business transaction of the universe, an excuse to pamper the scientist so he wouldn’t have to admit he did it just because he wanted to. The demon was probably still pissed but was willing to ignore it _for him_. The doctor rolled over in the eldritch’s hold and snuggled down further into the warm covers burying his face in Blackhat’s chest with a happy sigh.

‘Thanks, Jefectio.’ He murmured, slowly drifting off into unconsciousness. The demon grumbled slightly but rested his head atop the scientist’s, settling in for sleep. He supposed, they could deal with returning the bad luck tenfold to those who had made his dear doctor suffer in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for ending with fluff because I couldn’t bring myself to write smut like I planned...I’m obviously gonna have to work my way up to it. 
> 
> No, This was super fun and I can’t believe how long it actually got goOD LORD  
> I love feedback :)


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